Dance 'Till You're Dead
by TotallyCaptivated
Summary: Charlie gets a job at a night club. Turns out, his boss prefers his drinks pulsing and red rather than the elaborate alcohol and the men's favorite dancers.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Fright Night

Summary: Charlie gets a job at a Burlesque Club. Turns out though, his boss prefers blood rather than the risque alcohol and the men's favorite dancers.

A/N: Should I continue?

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><p><strong>I<strong>t was a very different place during the day than how it was at night. The lights were off, their wires humming sleepily, the bar closed and all the bottles bottled up, the floors and stages deserted because it was far to early to open up a night club. The one thing that remained the same during the day at the club and the club at night was that all the windows were blacked out, heavily veiled in tarnished soft linen and red rough velvet. Not one drop of sunlight shone its way in, and not one shadow slithered its way out. Charlie was surprised that he had gotten the job so easily. Turns out, not a lot of people apply for cleaning up nightclubs once they close. Guess he lucked out. Charlie never dreamed at getting a job with burlesque. He'd never been into such a classy and humble club before.

**T**here weren't too many employees, just different girls coming in and out every night, all different, all lean and faces all dolled up with thick foundation and dark black eyeliner. They all came in at the given time, and left at closing. The dance numbers were different every night. There was one man that did work there, the bartender. He had tattoos covering every flush of skin, the ink swirling in weird sinister shapes. His hair was short but he sported a plenty of piercing and nails always-lathered ebony. Charlie remembered his name as Peter. He came off as a bit of a dick, but in the long run he'd be the type to have your back.

**C**harlie's boss was another story entirely.

**C**harlie had only heard his voice over the phone, asking him all the critical information one must ask to run a decent business. He said nothing unusual. It was all in his tone. It was slathered with the pretentious custody of ill fortune, of slippery sensual delicacies, and it made Charlie's heart sputter on and off like the lights on stage…

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><p>Reviews are LOVE!<p> 


	2. J e r r y

Disclaimer: I do not own Fright Night

Summary: Charlie gets a job at a Burlesque Club. Turns out though, his boss prefers blood rather than the risque alcohol and the men's favorite dancers.

A/N: Short chapter, SORRY! I'm just getting used to this story, so the chapters will be short at first. Don't worry though, they'll get longer and more horrifically sexy soon.

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><p>It was a pounding, glorious throbbing, and the overhead lights, black wires and cords securing their vibrating structures in place desired its drive. The music was impulsive and brash. Charlie stood in the corner, a place where the neon lights did not touch. He watched the girl's on stage with detached interest. He had seen these routines many times before, all lace and satin and porcelain young beating skin. The lights made them shine the colors they wished to be, and their eyes, heavily coated and smoky, pierced through the crowd. Peter was drinking behind the bar, his head lolled to the side as a man tried to get him to pour him a drink. Charlie debated whether or not to go over there but a young woman beat him to it. She had cocoa colored skin, long ebony hair and full lips, and although she was frail and thin she managed to lift the drunken bartender to his feet. He laughed and shook his head, turning his eyes back to the stage. He threw a quick glance at his watch; ten minutes till closing. 2:00 am. Charlie shifted some on his feet, yawning and swaying unconsciously to the pulsating of the beat brass bass.<p>

"Hey, guy. You the new kid?" The voice was deep and coated in a type of mellowed sin, and Charlie turned his head immediately toward the sound. A tall man stood by his side, facing forwards but eyes staring down, deep dark, and ebony rich. His hair was neither chestnut nor black, and it was pushed roughly back out of the man's chiseled face. His lips were pulled into a kind of daring smirk, and white teeth flashed beneath the colored rays. He seemed like someone Charlie should know.

"Uh, yeah. I'm Charlie Brewster." The man's smile widened, and he shifted some on his feet, turning to face Charlie a little more fully. And then it struck him. The man matched the descriptions, his voice unique as to never be forgotten: his new superior.

"You're in charge of clean up, you been here this whole time?" His tone carried an amused edge, and Charlie swallowed under his intense unwavering gaze.

"Yea- yes sir." His throat felt dry. The man's teeth gleamed in a wolfish manner and he bent down so that him and Charlie were eye to eye. Charlie felt as though he could drown in those dark eyes.

"Call me Jerry. Makes me feel young again." Charlie nodded dumbly and Jerry turned, eyes scanning the crowds before darting back to Charlie once more.

"Tomorrow just come straight to my office, I don't like you just standing there." He quirked one more grin before blending back into the mesh of people once more. Charlie felt as though he could breathe again, and he released a breath he hadn't known he had been holding.

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><p>"Hey, doll! You're new right?" A woman's voice flittered through the air behind him across the abandoned hard wood floors, and Charlie turned toward the sound. The olive skinned woman was positioned by Peter again, a robe of robin egg blue satin covering her shoulders and thighs. The heels of her shoes clacked against the metal of the stool she was sitting in, and her hand ran absently fond through Peter's sweat drenched hair.<p>

"Yeah, I started today!" Charlie responded, raising his voice some so that she could hear from where he was cleaning by the stage. He picked up an empty bottle of vodka and dumped it carelessly into the trash bag behind him.

"This wasn't one of our best shows tonight, hun! That new blonde kept stumbling!" She laughed slightly and shook her head. Peter swayed on the stool beside her and his head rolled on the top of the counter under her hand. She smiled and turned back to Charlie.

"Have you met him yet?" She called and Charlie noticed her accent in her "y".

"Who?" She clicked her tongue and spun slightly on her chair.

"Jerry!" Oh, of course.

"Um, yeah, yeah I did!"

"He's hauntingly sexy, isn't he?" She called and Charlie laughed at that, walking forward to pick up a lost shred of lace. He scolded himself for mentally agreeing with her.

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><p>Reviews are LOVE!<p> 


	3. Glass Wall

Disclaimer: I do not own Fright Night

Summary: Charlie gets a job at a Burlesque Club. Turns out though, his boss prefers blood rather than the risque alcohol and the men's favorite dancers.

A/N: SORRY i haven't updated in a while. I literally just got 6 projects in one class, and have about three more in different ones. It's very stressful, and the ACT's that are coming up aren't helping. I'm trying to say that updates are going to be kind of slow, but while i kind of have a semi-free weekend i'm going to try and write as much as i can. So enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>T<strong>he weather was starting to change. Just like that. The air had gotten a slight chill to it, the air smelling of dead crinkling leaves and roasted nuts sprinkled with snow dropped cinnamon and candy swirls. Charlie always enjoyed taking walks when fall came bustling in. It was because of this weather, that Charlie walked to the club that evening. The sky was getting dark, settling overhead in a light melancholy grey, and Charlie listened contently to the sound of dead leaves crunching beneath his boots. They were spotted all around the street, pumpkin orange and chocolate brown. For a club, it was in a good strip of the city. Not too many crimes happened minutely, at least, not this early. It was as Charlie was digging in his pockets, the green material bunching around his wrists, that his phone puzzled peevishly in his jeans. Sighing, he left his right hand to finding the key to the club's locked doors, and with his left he dug out his phone, pressing it to his ear in a hurried sort of pace.

"Hello?"

"Hey." The voice was slightly nasally, high pitched some and sounded like it was a million miles away. Charlie groaned inwardly, his fingers tightening around the cool steel of a key.

"What's up now, Ed?"

"Okay, so I think I know what club you're talking about." Charlie slipped the key into the brass hole and twisted, the door creaking open to illuminate a dark musky and vacant dance floor and bar.

"Evil, you didn't have to research it, I already told you where it was!"

"No, not the name, dumbass, your boss!" This time Charlie couldn't hold in his groan of anguish, feet squeaking across the hardwood floor to the bar, the thick wood door shutting closed as his hands left it.

"Ed, no, not this again, I'm fucking sick of you scaring me out of my jobs!"

"Okay, first off, I don't "Scare you out of your jobs". Secondly, that chick last time totally was a psychopath Satanist. She was going to sacrifice you to-!"

"A psychopath Satanist at a video store? Really?"

"…Fuck off man, you were scared enough to quit. You must've believed me on some level."

"No, not really."

"Okay, well just listen to me on this one! Just one more time, okay?" Charlie placed himself on one of the bar stools velvet cushions, letting his backrest against the edge of the wood counter behind him.

"Ed, n-"

"Your boss-"

"Jerry."

"…Is a vampire." Charlie fell silent, listening to Ed's breathing on the other end of the line. It was freakishly quiet in the club, so when Charlie bent forward howling with laughter it echoed and rebounded ten fold.

"You are fucking insane! What are you on now?" He could barely speak. Best. One. Yet.

"Fuck off, Brewster! Look, I'll prove it to you, alright? I'll stop by tonight and-"

Charlie's laughter died instantly, his heart somehow becoming lodged in his throat.

"What? No, Ed, this isn't funny, I actually like this job!"

"Dude, it'll just be for a sec.! I'll come, I'll make my point, and I'll leave, okay? No weirdness, I promise!"

"N-"

"Okay, cool!" The line went dead, the mute buzzing tickling through Charlie's head. He stared at his phone dumbly, somehow unable to think about what just transpired.

"Shit." He muttered, his voice whispering back at him in eerie disfigurement.

"Hey, guy." Charlie jumped, his back scraping against the counter he was slouched upon, a dull pain shooting up his spine. He turned, spotting Jerry striding towards him, his shoes clicking softly against the hard wood floors. He was grinning like he had a deadly secret, and it made Charlie slightly embarrassed, so he opted for finding the cracks in the floor more interesting than Jerry's deep, brooding eyes.

"Hey…Jerry." It felt so weird, to call his boss by his first name, weird and…something else.

"You're here early." Jerry seated himself down a stool away from Charlie, eyes trailing predatorily down the length of the boy's body and back up again. Charlie involuntarily shivered in response.

"Yeah, I um, hope that's okay…?" Jerry shrugged, his shadowy grey shirt contrasting wonderfully with his eyes.

"It's whatever…Charlie." His name rolled off the older man's tongue with such sly and deeper meaning evidence that Charlie couldn't help the flow of blood that dusted his cheeks. Thank god it was dark.

"We open in an hour, anyone showed you around yet?" Charlie shook his head, clearing his throat before he replied:

"Just the essentials. Like, where all my stuff is and the bathroom. That's about it." Jerry regarded the boy silently for a while; smile slowly working its way wider up his skin.

"I'll show you to my office, in case you ever need me, and then we'd better get this place cleaned up." Jerry stood gracefully, the stool not creaking at all in protest and he began to stride away, and Charlie, slipping off his creaky stool, followed after him. He was a bit uncomfortable, judging by the fact that he'd only met Jerry once and that his best friend was going off on his strange tantrums again. Charlie couldn't help but study how Jerry walked, which was strange, because that action in itself was weird. So he instead directed his attention to his surroundings, studied the hallways that led up to back stage, which was wide and surprisingly neat, although some feathers and make up containers and tubes were scattered about the ground. Jerry clicked his tongue, turning his head over his shoulder to stare at the teenage boy, his stride never breaking.

"This needs to be tidied up, wouldn't you say, guy?" Charlie nodded.

"Yeah, I mean, the floor is kind of…" He found himself trailing off, Jerry's eyes staring with amused curiosity down upon him. "…Um, kind of messy." Jerry chuckled, a dark throaty sound, and turned again, this time disappearing behind a thick veil of velvet lace. Charlie faltered, hearing Jerry's steps going up and soon fading away. Hesitantly, he brushed aside the delicate material. It was cool on the pads of his fingers, and as he squinted in front of him he noticed the metallic spiral stairs twirling up and through a floor above. Cautiously, not being one for heights or spirals, he made his way up, his feet clattering with each and every over sought out step he took. The curtain flailed shut, and Charlie kept walking, the top of the stairs opening out onto a small iron platform. He stood there stiffly; looking for a railing he may take a hold of for dear life but found none. Lights sputtered on above him, deep florescent lights that looked as though they had been tampered with to give off a duller glow. A vast room spread out before him, wide and spacious, and the wall at the very far side Charlie realized with timid astonishment was glass. He looked about himself, searching for Jerry but finding, with frightened confusion, that he could not.

**B**ut he was perplexed with the glass wall and strode forward, watching each step he took with intense interest. It seemed as though the room could collapse at any given moment, although that certainly wouldn't make any sense. As he grew nearer he came to realize that the glass overlooked the club. He could see absolutely everything! He spotted the rack for the curtain on stage, caught a glimpse, and fair amount, of behind that curtain. Noticed with bemused humblest that the bar was in clear view, along with a nice long gaze toward the front doors. He could also pinpoint where he was standing yesterday, nervously shifting on his feet in the far corner of the club. That spot, was maybe the most noticeable…

"Pretty cool, huh, guy?" Charlie jumped, and he attempted to turn before he felt Jerry's presence closely planted behind him, the man's chin coming up near his ear.

"Yeah. How did-?"

"I constructed this club myself, Charlie. I could do whatever I desired with it." It was then that Charlie realized their close proximity, and how Jerry's head had dropped some so that his mouth was closer to Charlie's exposed neck. This realization brought along the two reactions that confused him. The first: his initial reaction, to get away. The second: his need to want to lean back into the man standing dangerously secure behind him. Jerry leaned down even closer, his lips unintentionally brushing against Charlie's neck and Charlie shivered turning abruptly and staring up at Jerry, his face, he was sure, was bright tomato red.

"Jerry, I thin-"

But the man just smiled, and rose a long slender finger to the nerved boys trembling lips.

"I know, Charlie. I know. It's time to let in the customers." With that Jerry turned, a large grin planted on his face, and Charlie distinctly heard Ginger calling out for them. His eyes followed Jerry's retreating form, and when the man had descended the stairs and was affirmed out of sight, Charlie sank down, listening and trying to calm his frantic beating heart. That of course, was when his phone rumbled in his pocket and he read, with great slithering dread, that Ed was on his way.

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><p>Reviews are <strong>LOVE<strong>!


	4. Evil Ed's Mirror

Disclaimer: I do not own Fright Night

Summary: Charlie gets a job at a Burlesque Club. Turns out though, his boss prefers blood rather than the risque alcohol and the men's favorite dancers.

A/N: enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>T<strong>he air smelled…different. More dense and intoxicating, and Charlie opted for crouching behind the bars counter, just in case Ed walked in and he was too absorbed in his thoughts to keep an eye on the young man. Right here was perfect, the bottles of liquor cool against his neck and back, his position being able to see the front door very clearly. Charlie wondered if Ed knew he had to pay to get in…

"Hey, kid, what the fuck are you doing?" Peter slurred, feet stumbling over to where Charlie squatted. He didn't really spare a glance at the bartender, instead keeping his gaze keen to the oak doors swarming with young women and men.

"Waiting." He called over the beat of the music, the lights sinking in to a more violet indigo hue.

"For what?" Vincent wheezed, taking a long drag from whatever the hell he was drinking. It was medicine sick green, and looked like piss, but from what Peter said it was addicting. Which was exactly why Charlie didn't go near it.

"Disaster." Charlie grumbled, noticing with distracted interest that not too many bodies were pushing around the wood counter, heeled shoes and plaid downed leather pressing in at every moment. He decided to stand for an instant and observe, Peter taking advantage of the break by concentrating on his nervous impulsive drinking. His eyes were immediately drawn on stage. He had to strain to see over the mass of wooing heads and puffed up smoky locks, flailing heads and loose boa pink feathers, but when he did Charlie realized what had everyone crazed.

There was a new girl on stage.

Her hair was waxen blonde, riveting in beautiful perfect yellow curls that cascaded around her face, sharp jaw and round chin. Her lips were quirked up, thin but giving off the appearance of fast and full, red and pink and glistening whenever she would twist, move, flow. Her legs were long and slender, along with the rest of her body, and she moved in the most hypnotizing pattern like a snake only hotter. She wore thin silver lace, a corset that matched the pale smoothness of her skin, and the ebony woven fishnets were a strikingly dense and illuminating contrast against white porcelain doll. She was beautiful, to say the least, and before Charlie had really realized he had stepped out around the counter, eyes suddenly trailing up from the girl and to where he knew Jerry was, watching through a glass wall. He couldn't see the eccentrically alluring man, but his eyes wavered for a moment before turning to the girl once more. With an electrifying jolt her dance was done, and the room exploded in drowned drunken cheering and pulsing musical melodies once more.

"Whoaaaaaaaaaa~! She is undeniably doable; I'll give you that Brewster! You fuck that yet?"

Charlie jumped, Ed's voice sounded teasing and pitched in his ear and he spun on his childhood friend in a more sort of embarrassed rage.

"What the hell, man? When'd you get here?" Ed fumbled in his jean pockets, cursing when he came out empty handed and soon moved to the folded inside pockets of his jacket.

"Ed-!"

"Okay, look, Brewster. Stop fucking around, this is serious."

"I didn't-!"

"Here." Ed placed something cool and metallic into Charlie's open hand and the man stared down at it quizzically. It was silver and rectangular, but it looked like a business card holder.

"What is this?"

"Open it."

"Never mind."

"God, c'mon man!" Evil reached over and retracted the object from Charlie's grasp, fumbling with the latch before popping it open. It was a mirror. Small and reflecting all the light and people in the room, though it was very small, and looked as though it fit quite comfortably into anyone's pocket.

"What's this for?" Charlie questioned, dreading the answer and reprimand he reasoned would come. He knew exactly what this was for.

"Vampires don't cast reflections."

"Good, I thought you were going to say something normal."

"Stop acting like such a dick, Brewster! Look, I know you've kind of…stopped believing in everything ever since your mom turned into a druggie and chased you here, stealing money from your bank account for booze, and passing out on the sides of sidewalks-" Maybe it was Ed's tone that set him off: that light sort of mocking undertone that really rubbed him the wrong way. Or maybe it was because he was truly starting to forget about his mom since he had banished her from his life and Ed was here bringing it all back up again. Maybe it was all of those things.

"Stop. I can't do this, man. Okay? You're right. My mom ruining herself and wrecking our life's kind of screwed me over. I moved here to get away from the past, but you can't seem to let it go. This isn't funny anymore, so just leave me the fuck alone." He didn't mean to raise his voice; he didn't mean to let it carry over the throb of the music. But it did and Ed and everyone around him heard. Evil cared more than the occasional drunkard though. He sighed and flipped up his hands, a mock sign of surrender.

"Charlie, I'm sorry, but look: there's a fucking vampire someone in here and unless we do something-"

"Ed. Enough." His friend fell silent and they stood, staring each other down until Charlie shuffled and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. The emotions he had hidden for so long were bubbling up again.

"Fine. I'll go. I won't mention it again but," Ed reached forward, and hesitantly slow, dropped the mirror into Charlie's jacket pocket; "Keep this just in case. It'll make me feel better. I'll call you later, man." With that his glasses wearing friend turned and left, disappearing into the crowd and out the door. Charlie fingered the mirror in his pocket, the metal cool and slick on his fingertips. He groaned and turned, sulking back behind the bar again. He was sick of this shit. Peter didn't say a word, just tapped him on the forehead and handed him the green acid piss liquor Charlie swore he'd never try. He did anyway though. It tasted like piss.

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><p>Reviews are <strong>LOVE<strong>!

A/N: Whoever can de-code my note (below) on an upcoming chapter can get an exclusive preview for the scene down below! ^_^

_God I hope we get caught_, (comes up behind him, arms wrap around) _'cause at least we have something to say,_ (discussion of refusing and vampires)_ instead of wasting away…!_ ("You're a vampire-" "Never stopped you from looking.")_Come on and lock me up!_ (they kiss) _Oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh OH! They don't say if we're lost what would happen,_ (passion-ness)_caught in the middle of the young and the reckless! _


	5. No Reflection

Disclaimer: I do not own Fright Night

Summary: Charlie gets a job at a Burlesque Club. Turns out though, his boss prefers blood rather than the risque alcohol and the men's favorite dancers.

A/N: enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>B<strong>ackstage, during the shows, was a hassle. Charlie tried to clean up as best as he could, plucking up discarded tights, dirtied mascara dotted napkins, and broken canned bottled lipsticks off the trampled on floor: but no matter how much he picked up he had to stay out of the way while the girl's were actually on stage. The music was louder than usual, more robust, and Charlie retreated to a chair in the corner once more, a head ache seeming to slip in place- the floor being as clean as it was going to be at the moment. He really wasn't supposed to be working right now, but he didn't want the dancers to trip and hurt themselves backstage because of a redundant foundation or cast away pad. His head began to throb and he slouched, a girl prancing by kicked his feet in her hurried state, and the heels of her platforms cut and stung through Charlie's jeans. He recoiled, and although the girl didn't notice he couldn't help but feel annoyed as the newfound pain was toppled on top of his growing migraine.

He wanted to get away.

He considered the option of going home but the club was almost closed, just an hour more. He cast a sidelong look across the hardwood floor, over vanity mirrors and clothes racks to the concealed lilac curtain that covered the entrance to Jerry's office. He was so tempter-oh so tempted- to just dash up those metal twirled stairs and into the older man's room and collapse, spent and ill feeling onto the man's couch. He didn't want to intrude, but the thought of reclining was so overwhelmingly delicious that he couldn't really stop his feet from rising and carrying him across the floor. The activity around him was a blur, and as he walked he didn't notice the golden haired girl from earlier fall in step behind him until he reached for the curtain and she made her presence known.

"Hey, you're the guy that cleans up after hours, right? Whatcha doin' back here?" Her voice was soft and sweet and Charlie turned, startled upon the sudden transposition of the young woman beside him. His head spun and he swallowed smiling pitifully down at her.

"Yeah, I'm Charlie." She grinned, the movement of lips and muscle making her face shine under the dimmed lightening and she held out her hand enthusiastically.

"Amy. I'm new."

"I noticed." Charlie lilted, eyes glancing quick and longingly to the curtain and then back to the woman again.

"I heard you were new too!" Her voice snapped him and he smiled wearily and shifted on his feet.

"I started about two days ago…maybe three, I don't quite remember." She giggled, g-i-g-g-l-e-d, and licked her ruby red lips, turning her head in slight embarrassment before humbly staring down.

"Well, I'm up next but…maybe…um, sometime this week we could go grab a drink when my shifts up. What do you say?" She turned her dopey eyes up at him and the force of such a sudden sly innocence caused Charlie to stutter for a moment before he regained control of his thoughts.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, sure, let's-let's do that sometime." Her smile blossomed and she couldn't very well conceal her childish exposition.

"Cool." She breezed and before Charlie could get out another breath she turned and plodded away, the music and lights going in to a more techno feeling beat.

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><p><strong>H<strong>e felt nervous as he climbed up the metallic steps, nearing the top and growing slower out of anxiously awaited humiliation but he heard the sound of tumbling and the shattering of glass and he froze, ears straining to hear over the music. There was yelling, slurred tones of drunken intoxicated nonsense, followed by crashing once more and Charlie reacted on instinct. He dashed down the stairs, his sneakers hitting the metal and resounding back, and he dashed out, the lilac curtain draping over him in a sort of lover's embrace as he ran, and the smell of cinnamon and clover spurred it's loving scent around him. It was gone in an instant, but the reminisce of it remained and his head swooned at the scent.

He looked about him, but the remaining girl's back stage were huddled together by a single mirror, the vanities lights illuminating them in a sickly glow…they looked almost like the undead. Charlie shifted on his feet, avoiding going out directly on stage and down the side stairs instead, turning down and around and ending up at the entrance of the dance floor. Two men were fighting, tugging hair and smashing jaws, their faces burnt red from rage and alcohol, and the people around them had tried to clear a path away but the tables and chairs soon prevented it. It was then that Charlie realized something: there was no bouncer: no one to break up this brawl.

One man was wailing on the other, short brown hair and thick whiskers, the other past the point of oblivion, his head was crashed against an oak table again and again. A woman was screaming above the tumbler of the beat, and one of the men crumbled, chocking on a thick dense flow of blood as he fell. The other man was sweating, wiping the blood from his hands on his shirt before kicking out again, his foot colliding into the man's ribs. The fallen male groaned and coughed, convulsing dangerously violent on the floor. Charlie's eyes scanned frantically over the crowd and he spotted Jerry near the door, calm and cool, a sympathetic smile planted across his face. Jerry's dark eyes fluttered over to Charlie for a moment, regarding the man with quiet dignity, still unmoving to stop the fight that had broken out in his club. Annoyed and frustrated, Charlie dashed forward, screaming over the music for the punching man to stop. He didn't know what he was doing, especially when he approached and tried to grab hold of the antagonists arm. The male didn't seem to give the young man hanging on his arm much attention, just flung out angrily with his fist. His fat knuckles collided with Charlie's jaw and the boy was sent stumbling backwards, his head ringing from the blow.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" The man shrieked his voice deep and booming and Charlie struggled on righting himself on his feet once more. He raised his fist high in the air again, seemingly not knowing the two men at his feet apart and attempted to bring it down low and hard once more.

Charlie didn't know how Jerry got there.

He wasn't sure how his hand wrapped around the incensed man's fist but it did, and held it still. The drunk's eyes widened sickly and he tried to pull away his fist but couldn't, Jerry's grip staining like melted iron.

"What do you think you're doing? Fighting a younger defenseless kid? That's a dick head move, wouldn't you say, guy?" His voice rumbled, dark and seedy under the throb of bass and it made Charlie shiver involuntarily, realizing that Jerry wasn't paying any heed to the bleeding man under his feet. He was only aware of him.

"T-that boy be getting in muh way!" Slurred the giant still struggling to release his fist, the blood soon draining entirely from his face.

"In your way? No, no. I'm afraid you were in his." Jerry's hand twitched, and the man cried out, a sickening crack filling the room and causing everyone to turn to silence. The drunk tumbled to his knees, a tree falling down, and he stared up at Jerry with fearful possessed eyes. Tears welled up in the brute's blood shot orbs, and his whole arm trembled with the most reckless tremors.

"What the hell?" He whispered eyes darting to me and then back up at the man who had him on his knees.

"Get up, guy. I want you out. You're fucking up my club." Jerry jerked the man forward, another crack resounding throughout the room, the crowd stirring anxiously. A glint caught the corner of Charlie's eye and he looked down, the mirror Ed had given him fallen open by his side. The defeated man was standing there in the reflection, his arm held out at the most crooked of angles, but Jerry wasn't seen. Charlie whipped his head back, Jerry still holding onto the man's arm and Charlie's eyes strained back to the mirror. No Jerry. His heart ran cold, a spike of sweat across on his forehead. Fuck no. No no no no no no no no. That's fucking crazy, there's no way- Charlie turned his gaze up to Jerry, his boss turning to stare down at him over his shoulder. His black eyes regarded him before he smiled, a chilling knowing smile before he, and the whimpering man, made for the front door of the club. When they were some good distance away Charlie heard Jerry falter.

"Oh, and Charlie?" Charlie started at the sound of his name being called, stumbling to his feet and turning to face Jerry who was standing by the bar.

"Go on upstairs to my office, I'll be up in a sec. Your eye looks like shit."

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><p>Reviews are <strong>LOVE<strong>!


	6. Pens

Disclaimer: I do not own Fright Night

Summary: Charlie gets a job at a Burlesque Club. Turns out though, his boss prefers blood rather than the risque alcohol and the men's favorite dancers.

A/N: enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>I<strong>t was the scariest fucking moment of his life. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing, wandering around backstage and listen to the crowd slowly turn back to it's energetic trumpeted self. He had gathered two pens, snapped one in half and tied them together with a neglected hair pony to make his own little make shift cross. He had the mirror but that wouldn't do shit except confirm what he already knew (which he was trying desperately to blame on his head being knocked around and therefore he was seeing things). Charlie groaned in terrorized frustration, he was so close to just tearing out his hair by the roots and running out. He could leave; just fucking quit and then run. He'd live that way.

He stopped fidgeting and glanced toward the violet curtain. He could do what he always did when something was too much: leave.

He took in deep shallow breaths, willing himself and his feet to move forward, just pussy out and then leave all this behind. He could very well be over reacting. It was with a made up mind that Charlie ascended the spiral stairs upward, his feet moving as slow and heavy as lead, and as he entered Jerry's deserted office he couldn't help making his way over to the glass wall again and look down. It really was a mesmerizing sight, a clear tranquil view, and by breathing in long calming breathes and watching the beautiful bioluminescent colors he could remain level headed.

"Do you want to know why I had that wall be made of glass, Charlie?" Charlie's heart jumped from his ribs, pounded bleeding red against its bony confinements to startle him enough to want to run. Charlie swallowed, his fingers sliding against the "cross" in his pocket. He turned slowly, seeing Jerry standing a good distance away, blood dotting his fair complexion and built arms.

"Why?" Charlie's voice cracked and he cleared it, repeating his question again and this time with a little more dignity. Jerry cocked his head, his eyes traveling down Charlie's jeans and back up again, a smile flittering across his features.

"I can see everything, Charlie. I know who comes in and comes out." He began to walk forward, a steady controlled walk, and although he gave off the expression of causing no harm that walk was worse than those dark soulless eyes. Jerry stopped two feet away, eyes gazing down and grin smiling deviously.

"I know you had a friend visit you tonight. I know he gave you something. A mirror, wasn't it?" Charlie wasn't quite sure on what to do, he couldn't really think so he didn't do anything. He unconsciously fingered his make shift cross in his jeans, the shape of it giving him a sudden tight resolve.

"I know." Charlie whispered, his eyes turning to steel as he felt the tip of the pen scrape a black line across the pad of his finger. "I know what the hell you are, Jerry, and I-"

"…Am powerless." Jerry interrupted, eyes surveying the prey before him with neglected ignorance. Charlie stiffened, fingers curling menacingly around the pens though he made no move to draw them yet.

"What can you do, Charlie? Wave that mirror around or…" His ebony eyes darted down and he chuckled, shifting ever closer. "Stab me with bunched together office pens?" His eyes flashed in amusement and Charlie recoiled, his hand flinging out as he held the pens out in front of him in defiance. Jerry's head tilted to the side and he laughed, a deep dark sound, and Charlie flushed with vengeful embarrassment.

"I repel you with the power of Christ the Lo-" Jerry was behind Charlie in an instant, hand clasped over the noisy man's mouth, the pens falling crumbling and broken from Jerry's fingers. The vampire's nails left a thin scratch on Charlie's sweat dotted forehead, and he felt the blood slowly begin to drip down.

"You have a dirty tongue, Charlie. I have half a mind to rip it out." Charlie kicked away, his foot colliding with the vampire's shin. His only reaction was a tighter hold, Jerry's hand wrapping around both Charlie's wrists and yanking his arms behind his back. Charlie stumbled but didn't fall and Jerry came up behind him, pressing in too close for comfort.

"You're entertaining, I've never had someone try to pull a stunt like that before: a cross out of pens." Charlie jerked his head to the right, Jerry's hand slipping some before it fell and clutched his chin instead, holding the man's head at a delicious angle, his neck exposed and pleading. Jerry licked his lips, bending down and letting his tongue caress the hidden spot between Charlie's ear and neck. The boy stiffened in surprise.

"What the hell are you doing?" He gasped, trying in vain to free his wrists from the vampire's hold. The music still resounded throbbing through the walls of the room, and Jerry moved his hips accordingly to the beat, grinding seductively against Charlie. The young man's heart sputtered and he pulled harder, his hands still held roughly behind him.

"You've been lost for some time, haven't you, Charlie? You've never been able to find what it is you want-the dancers on stage? You find them attractive but they don't make you feel…" Jerry nipped at Charlie's ear, his lips sliding slowly over the skin that lay there and Charlie bit his lip in decadent. "…Alive, have they?" Jerry turned Charlie roughly to face him, smiling down at the flushed young man in his arms. He rolled his hips again, this time directly against Charlie and the boy's eyes widened in sudden arousal as his mouth parted open in a soundless moan. Jerry's head bent, his mouth hovering over Charlie's jugular, his eyes fluttering. His hand came up and he shakily brushed down the collar of Charlie's jacket, long nails skimming the skin of Charlie's collarbone.

"You want this, Charlie. You won't have to need anybody, rely on anybody. You'll never have to run again. You'll never feel weak." Charlie's struggling stopped for an instant, Jerry's words piercing deep.

_You'll never have to run again. _

The song tuned and changed its rhythm, the lights flashing red and they illuminated Jerry's outline in the most sinful scarlet.

"Damn you…" Charlie panted his eyes hazed over in a cloudy veil of lustful abandon, Jerry grinned down slyly upon him.

"Let go, Charlie." He whispered, lips moving against Charlie's heated skin. The young man did something then that Jerry wasn't expecting. He slammed the mirror into the side of Jerry's head, the vampire's grip loosening for just enough time for Charlie to run, dash down the stairs two at a time and through the crowded areas back stage. He kept running until he reached the dance floor, the music here unbearably loud. He was panting, his throat tightening and he rubbed his wet eyes furiously, his mind and heart unbelieving of what had just occurred. As always, it ended with him running.

_God I hope we get caught…_

The music was static, still loud and vibrating, and Charlie couldn't help but stare ahead, not truly seeing much of anything. The mirror in his grasp seemed slick with sweat from his palm, and the wound on his forehead throbbed. He could feel it: wet and red and tingling. He didn't sense Jerry until he was already behind him, the man's taunt arms wrapping around Charlie's waist, holding the younger man in a grip of iron. Charlie couldn't exactly move, and he was too unfocused to really process what was happening around him. All he felt was the pain the vampire had caused.

_…'cause at least we have something to say, _

"You're careless, Charlie, for getting cut like that." Jerry's breath fanned across his ear and Charlie couldn't surpass a shiver, the world slowly folding back. Jerry bent his head down, his hair falling off his forehead and tickling Charlie's skin; the vampire's mouth skimming over a cut on his neck Charlie hadn't even realized was there. Jerry's tongue darted out, licking up an escaped drip of crimson blood, his grip on Charlie tightening as he crushed the boy to him. "Very careless," He groaned, his lips connecting with the cut, and Charlie jolted as he felt the vampire's fangs tickle his flesh. The mirror fell from his grasp, clanging softly against the dance floor. But Jerry didn't bite; he just sucked until the cut felt dry and Charlie dizzy, before pulling slowly away and following Charlie's untrained gaze to the dancers on stage, Jerry's eyes narrowing upon the sight of Amy. Charlie wasn't even staring in her direction.

_…Instead of wasting away…! _

"You don't like the girl Charlie? I got her just for you." Charlie didn't respond. His throat felt dry, his fighting ambition wavering. He liked Amy plenty; she just…didn't make him feel…alive. "You prefer men, Charlie?" Jerry whispered, tongue darting out to lick a hot trail up the back of Charlie's ear. Heat flooded Charlie's veins, and the young man started, trying to hide his embarrassment by walking away, but Jerry held him fast against his hard chest, refusing any movement from the young man. "You're a vampire-"

"Never stopped you from looking."

_Come on and lock me up! _

Jerry dipped down, Charlie's blood still coating his lips, and with a tight grip he took hold of Charlie's chin, tilting the man's head up and crushing his mouth to his.

_Oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh OH! They don't say if we're lost what would happen…! _

Charlie gasped in surprise, the sound coming out as a muffled sort of moan, and Jerry pressed in harder, his tongue forcing its way past Charlie's lips and he began to ravish the other man's mouth. Charlie tasted the metallic tang of his own blood on Jerry's warm tongue, and the scent of the vampire sent his mind spiraling. Jerry broke this passionate embrace, a string of blood connecting their lips as Charlie swayed, dazed and captivated on his feet. Jerry's lips never left his skin, they kept their trailing until they reached the junction of his neck, where his lips parted and his fangs replaced them. Charlie jolted as the pointed teeth pierced the skin of his neck, his breath leaving him, and as Jerry sucked and gathered and moaned with the pleasure of finally having this man's blood Charlie's hands had been searching upwards and they were now holding Jerry's head in place. He was sinking lower, he felt his mind leaving, his heart slowing and he heard a second heartbeat join his, low and slow. When Jerry pulled away it was like the after affects of an orgasm, the bite tingling pleasantly and shooting heat to every corner of his dying being.

_…Caught in the middle of the young and the reckless! _

The night faded away as the music died out, and the night was left only to them.

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	7. Brilliant

Disclaimer: I do not own Fright Night

Summary: Charlie gets a job at a Burlesque Club. Turns out though, his boss prefers blood rather than the risque alcohol and the men's favorite dancers.

A/N: I am SO SO SOOOOO sorry on the extremely late update! AGH! I've been SO busy! Nine projects in one class, ACT's and the PTA's…gahh! I'll get better, I promise! Sorry, short chapter! Setting things up though. :D The good stuff is coming up, more slash in the next chapter-a LOT more. It may bump the rating up to 'M'. Can't WAIT to write it! :)

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><p><strong>I<strong>t was shrill and beeping. The noise shattered the peaceful tranquil sleep and Charlie groaned, scrunching himself ever further down into his bed. He felt the warm cloth of his pillow under his cheek, the thick comforter draped around his cold frame, his toes curled and his face hidden. He'd like to remain like this, he concluded, not wishing to move or work or-work… He bolted up as though he had been stung, head darting to stare at the little dreaded red numbers on his clock: 12:45 pm. Confusion washed over him as he looked around his small apartment, noticing nothing out of place but puzzled on why exactly he couldn't remember coming home. He couldn't remember much of anything really, nothing except…

_"You almost want this more than I do." Jerry mused, his nails trailing sharp and bleeding down Charlie's exposed chest. He sucked in a breath as the groping fingers didn't stop their mission down, and he felt his head roll back as Jerry's hand wrapped fully around him. _

_ "You're damned, Charlie. So don't fight this." He didn't after that. _

Charlie felt his stomach lurch, his neck throb in extinguishable hurt and he flew from his bed, rushing to the bathroom and hurling his guts out into the white porcelain toilet. His back and chest heaved with the effort, and his stomach acid stung his throat and gums. He felt disgusting, miserably so. What the fuck had he done? His body shuddered, and Charlie flushed his mess down, staggering to his feet and opting for bending over the sink instead of the foreboding bowel. He then noticed the dull ach in his tailbone and groaned indignantly, his throat tightening and his eyes moistening in ashamed frustration. Oh yeah, he was screwed. He rinsed his mouth of the acidic taste, the putrid smell fading with the water and although his stomach didn't feel any better his head seemed to clear slightly. Last night felt like a dream, a fucking nightmare, but he couldn't remember not feeling _something._ His neck pulsated in reminding and Charlie lifted up an unsteady hand to lightly dab his fingers over the gathering nerves there. His neck was wet, and he glanced a look at his fingers. Blood. His neck was fucking bleeding.

He grabbed a washcloth from above the sink, wetted it, and roughly scrubbed his neck, his hands shaking so badly he thought he'd drop the cloth. He flung the wet thing to the ground, digging in the cabinet once more and fumbled panicked to get a band-aid. His hands were jittering like he was on speed, and he tilted his neck to try and see the damage in the mirror. His heart stopped. It literally felt like the world was spinning, like he was insanely high and the light weight of his body made his stagger and crumble against the tiled wall behind him. Charlie's back hit hard, he slid to the floor with his head lolling around on his bleeding neck. It felt like all his limbs were rubber and weighed about 100 tons. He couldn't find the energy to move, his stomach tumbling violently again.

"Fuck…" He whispered, voice ragged and sore, and he closed his eyes to try not to see the image of his neck in his head: the image conceiving of pale flesh dirtied with two perfect red bite marks…

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><p>Charlie walked briskly down the street, the cold inky blackness enveloping him completely in its mirth. The street lamps produced some sort of light, dull and sputtering yellow, but at least Charlie could see where he was going. The club lay in all it's glory ahead, bright and flashing. He could hear the muffled music from here, could see the staggering outlines of crowds and under aged drinkers that Peter probably had no problem serving, just as long as he got some of his piss alcohol. Three girls staggered by then, the one in the middle swaying and rolling while her arms were draped loosely across her other friend's slender shoulders.<p>

"I'm so OLD!" The girl in the middle slurred, knees buckling inward with each step. Her friend's tried not to meet Charlie's eyes as they passed, the acrid bitter smell of alcohol hanging off of them like perfume. "I'm 22, guys! That's OLD!" The wasted girl's voice fluttered and faded down the street and Charlie wondered distantly if he should have called them a cab. Either way, he had no time for this. He quickened his walk, his shoes clacking menacingly across the street and he disappeared into the growth of a nearby alley, following the familiar littered broken bottles and burnt out cigarette butts to the back door of the club. He fumbled with his keys, the cold air around him cutting through his skin and hair, and his hands shook violently as he threw open the metal door and pushed his way inside. The music screamed him in welcome as he stepped shadowed behind the curtains of backstage. He wasn't sure where he wanted to go at the moment, where the safest place would be. He felt the jagged wooden cross in his pocket, the small bundles of garlic and holy water deeper into the pockets of his jeans. He had actually been so frightful as to call Ed but his friend didn't pick up. He still hadn't received a call back. Charlie didn't notice the girl's floundering around behind him, just kept his senses sharp as he circled around the vanity mirrors and discarded clothes. Soon enough the lilac lace curtain was obscuring his view and he pushed his way through, almost sprinting up the metal twisted stairs. If he gave himself more than a second to think, he'd back down with fear, shrivel up and run. The bites on his neck throbbed as he neared the top, and before he even had the chance to set his foot down on sold ground he was shoved-not hard, but roughly enough to push him back into the black metallic thin banister behind him. He groaned at the uncomfortable blow his spine felt, turning quickly on his feet and reaching into his pockets to retrieve the cross when-

He saw a girl standing before him, arms crossed over a comfortably small chest and thin long legs spread in a sort of dominance stance. He recognized the girl's heavy blue eye shadow first, thin lips and tangled blonde hair. Her neck was long; Charlie realized, long and pale, and his heart began to throb at the sight. He was instantly struck with the thought on why her neck aroused him more than her skimpy dancer's outfit. When her eyes landed on him though, her steely suspicious gaze softened and she smiled, lowering her arms and holding her hands out to Charlie.

"You've gotten big, haven't ya?" She quipped, flashing a toothy smile. Charlie studied her for an instant more, debating whether or not she was bidding him to come over.

"Charl, don't tell meh you've forgotten? 'Member me? Doris, your momma's friend!" Charlie felt his heart drop into his stomach in deathly realization and the mere mention of his whack job mother made his surprise melt dangerously high into concealed rage. His breathing came out in shorter spurts, and as he studied the woman's made up face he felt the need to smash something. It had been so long since he had felt rage like this.

"Yeah, I remember seeing you over sometimes." He ground out, voice dangerously low and sharp. She pouted her bottom lip petulantly, shifting on her feet and seeming to debate whether she should hug the young man in her wiry arms like she used to.

"Why're you so mad, doll? You don sound too happy." She winked prettily up at him but Charlie didn't move, the anger came pulsing through his veins with such force that it surprised even himself. He remembered Doris all right, she'd come over with at least two men and whatever hell kind of drugs his mother requested every tuesday and friday night. Early in the morning when he came downstairs after the moaning and shouting had stopped he would find her stripped naked and laughing hysterically by his mother on the floor to the kitchen. High and disgustingly used. The two men had left by then.

"I dance 'ere now." Doris supplied, clacking closer on her tall hooker heels. She was almost eye level with Charlie now, and he noticed the white specks of powder dusting her nostrils, her darkened dull eyes and clammy skin. Charlie said nothing.

"What you mad for?" She whined, turning her head to look nervously around them. "You come 'ere lookin' fur Jerry? He'll be back soon, but when he does you best leave." She laughed suggestively, a dry crooked huff, and backed away from Charlie, her stale breath breezing by his face. Charlie felt the stirrings of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, and the feeling itself disgusted him. Why the hell was he jealous…of Doris, no less?

"Just tell him I need to see him, okay?" Charlie grumbled pushing past the ditzy woman and beginning to make his way downstairs.

"Will do, doll! See you later!" Her voice made him grit his teeth and curse at nothing.

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><p><strong>H<strong>e felt lost now. Hurt, confused, frustrated and scared. It was closing time, the club was shutting down, the music slurring off. Charlie sat in a lone bar stool swinging his feet absentmindedly as he texted Ed yet again. He thought writing:

'You were right. Jerry's a vampire. Get your ass down here and help me kill it.'

Would be enough to send his friend flying but he assumed he guessed wrong. He was starting to get paranoid with worry.

"Heey~." A voice rumbled off behind him and Charlie's head turned, eyes coming into contact with the drunken ones of Peter's.

"You're texts are fucked up." Charlie jumped slightly at this, glancing down to his phone and realizing that the screen was in plain hindsight to Peter. Inwardly, he groaned.

"Yeah, well-"

"You high on some new shit?" Charlie regarded Peter with mock amusement before he turned around completely in his stool. Vincent looked drunk enough already; it was obvious by how fully he leaned up against the counter.

"Have you noticed, anything strange about this club Peter?" The man in question shrugged, taking a heavy swig of whatever he had in that bottle. The alcoholic man's teeth rattled against the glass as he shook, and he soon smashed the empty glass bottle upon the ground.

"I dunno what you're talking about…" He slurred, eyes rolling around loose in his head. "I never 'member anything about the nights I work here." It was then that it struck Charlie on why Peter was still here. No one would put up with such an addicted slacker, no one except Jerry. The reason? Peter didn't remember anything. He didn't do anything. He was too drunk all the time to know what was real and what wasn't. If anyone here had been able to catch onto Jerry's secret it would've been Peter. Problem was, Peter forgot everything in the morning. Charlie turned back slowly around, his eyes gathering the dust collected on the floor.

"Brilliant…" He murmured, a small sadistic smile spreading across his face. "Fucking brilliant."

It was then that he heard Doris scream.

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